


Albus Potter and the New Seer

by ThiccFics



Series: The Raven, the Prophet, the Dragon, and the Spider [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Albus Potter Centric, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon who?, Cursed Child never happened, Gen, Hogwarts, I only know my own delusions, Next Gen, No Ship just yet because they're 11 in this I just put it there for tagging reasons, Not Beta Read, Ollivanders Wand Shop (Harry Potter), Seer Scorpius Malfoy, Slytherin Albus Severus Potter, Sorry Not Sorry, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, first installment, my take on the next gen at Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThiccFics/pseuds/ThiccFics
Summary: Albus Potter isn't exactly excited for his first year at Hogwarts, and between bullies, potions, and even his own family, he feels a right to be unimpressed. But he at least has one person that has his back, Scorpius. Through thick and thin, these two try to navigate through a tough first year, while an unknown threat brews on the horizon.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy & Albus Severus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Series: The Raven, the Prophet, the Dragon, and the Spider [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839109
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	1. Strange Intruders

**Author's Note:**

> My first work for Harry Potter! The pacing might be a bit weird at first so please comment whenever you can! Please enjoy!

Sybill Trelawney shuffled through the hallway to her new apartment. Her robes swayed in the draft that swept through the building, and she pulled her shawl tighter around herself to keep out the chill. She finally had saved enough money in order to retire, and although her new abode was rather modest, she was more than happy to move in, though she still felt wary of her environment. She was still recovering from events that occurred nearly two decades prior and planned to stay in that apartment for a long time. 

Sybill arrived at the door to her new home and quickly noticed that the plaque that read ‘413’ was tilted slightly as if it fell off and someone tried to reattach it to the doorway. She shook her head, waving off the creeping paranoia, and got to searching through her large overstuffed bag for her keys to the apartment. She got the keys at the insistence of the ministry, as they said that it would help her blend in with her muggle surroundings. Sybill, after searching for a good while, grew confused, as she was sure she had put them in her bag. She knelt onto the ground to search for them some more, but it was no use, and additionally, she felt tired and just wanted to get into the apartment to go to bed and get some much-needed rest. She checked that no one was looking, and pulled out her wand from her robes before whispering “Alohomora”. She heard a faint click of the lock before she opened the door and let herself inside, tucking her wand back into her pocket.

The apartment was, unsurprisingly, chilly, as no one had bothered, nor should have bothered, to heat up the place. She dropped her bag onto the nearby coat rack that she had placed in a few days prior. Sybill moved in a trance to her bedroom, too tired to stay up much longer, and flopped down right into the comfortable, although slightly dusty pillows and blankets. She was about to submit to slumber, only to have a draft send a shiver down her spine. She peeled her tired eyes open to her window, open, drapes fluttering in the breeze. She stiffly stood up out of bed and slammed the window closed in annoyance. A moment of silence before a crash of china resounded outside her bedroom down the hall, which led Sybill to groan. 

Sybill was about to deal with whatever pest found its way into her new abode, when she stopped in her tracks, frozen. She shakily and slowly turned back to the window. Something wasn’t right, her heart was pounding, and sweat had begun to pool in her bound fists. Many simply called her delusional when she had a bad feeling, but she was sure of the twisting in her gut that told her the danger that she was in. 

It was because of the window.

It was _open._

That window shouldn’t have been openable, because she sealed all of the windows shut with her own magic. And somehow, someone or some _thing_ got inside. 

Sybill knew she was in grave danger. 

She came to her few remaining senses and grabbed around her robes for her wand, which was stashed into one of the pockets. She steeled up what very little bravery she had and slipped silently out of her bedroom. She made it to the front door when she whipped her head around at a creak on the floors. 

Two figures stood in the hallway, one taller one shorter, completely still, and shrouded by the dark. They both wore ragged cloaks and had their hoods pulled up over their heads. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even shake. Blood turned to ice in her veins, her eyes felt like they might burst out of her skull, and her palms were pouring out enough sweat to fill a drinking glass. _Dementors?_ Trelawney thought, _No, the entire apartment would be frosted over if that was the case._ Sybill’s mind then went to an answer she dreaded. _Death Eaters?_ She resigned that it was the most likely option. She then grew more paranoid as none of them had moved in quite a while, all waiting for someone else to move first. The taller one slid their foot forward in a silent step, lifting their cloak to show a large knife glinting in the small amount of moonlight allowed in the room, and the terrified retired teacher flung open the door at lightning speed, only to be met by a third cloaked figure. 

Sybill, in her terror, released a bright flash of light to blind the cloaked figures while she made a getaway. She nearly crumpled to the floor when she felt a sudden sharp pain in her side and opened her eyes. In the new light, she got a good look at the face of her attacker, or rather, the mask the figure was wearing. She almost stopped in her escape just due to how strange it was. It resembled the skull of some kind of animal, but it was distorted and so very vile, with unique markings painted on it in a deep blood red. This figure also had a knife, its edge jagged, and was dripping with a deep red liquid matching the mask. She finally turned and ran away as fast as her legs could carry her. 

She could faintly hear arguing behind her, but she didn’t stop, but she stumbled slightly at the very clear instructions one barked out, “We need her alive.” 

Sybill didn’t even realize she ran herself to the Ministry of Magic until she heard the attention-grabbing shouts of the newspaper stand workers trying to attract a new customer. She trembled and swayed through the crowd, earning quite the number of odd looks as she went. She eventually stumbled into an empty hallway, the quiet of her surroundings had her feel an increase in paranoia. Her eyes shifted around quickly, and her tremble increased to full-blown shaking in a matter of seconds. It was then that her eyes locked onto a familiar face. Minerva McGonagall. 

“Minerva! Oh, thank Merlin you’re here!” Sybill cried out tearfully, followed by intense sobbing and sniffles. 

“Sybill?” McGonagall questioned with a mix of concern, confusion, and annoyance on her face.

***

Minerva McGonagall was a stern woman. Everything from her teachings to her dress was kept in strict formality. That didn’t mean she didn’t have a heart, she just felt that you got respect when you earned it. She felt that learning was best achieved through discipline and practice, it was one of many reasons why she loved Transfiguration so. It was also one of the many reasons why she disliked Divination with such a passion. She believed that nothing was gained through wild, mostly inaccurate guesses about the future.

Not that Minerva had anything against wizards or witches who did enjoy the ‘art’ of Divination, it just wasn’t for her. People like Sybill Trelawney were… fine teachers, although McGonagall wouldn’t be lying if she said that she was relieved to no longer comfort the former Divination teacher after a glass too many of sherry. But that also made it all the more confusing, and annoying, to see the very person stumble-run into her arms, sobbing hysterically. 

“Sybill, what are you doing here at this hour? You should be home and in bed.” Minerva said politely as she brought out a handkerchief to relax a distraught Trelawney. 

“I was at home.” Sybill said, after calming down enough to speak, “There were people there, Minerva.” She loudly blew her nose. 

“People? In your home? What people?” Minerva questioned, hoping that this wouldn’t be a huge waste of time. 

Sybill started waving her hands in confusion, “I… I don’t really know. It was all such a blur… They had on masks, though, that I’m sure of. An-” she was cut off by Minerva grabbing her wrist. 

“Sybill, dear, is this blood?” Minerva asked examining the distraught woman’s hand, her concern showed on her face. 

“Oh.. Oh dear.” Sybill looked at her hand, slathered in blood, then down at her side, “That’s not good. That’s not good at all.” 

Minerva moved to look down at Sybill’s side. Her robes were sliced and stained a deep red. From the tear in her clothes, Minerva could see a deep gash in her side. She swiftly brought out her wand and cast a signal to St. Mungo’s. She then sent out a call to any aurors on hand, and quickly went back to the former teacher. 

“Alright, Sybill, just hold out for a few moments, we’ll get you to a healer straight away.” Minerva said briskly. She wished she hadn’t gotten so practiced at saying that phrase. It hurt her in a way not many things could. 

“So sharp…” Sybill whispered. 

“Pardon?” Minerva asked.

“Their knives… they were sharp…” Sybill whispered again, and Minerva had no idea what she meant. 

***

McGonagall paced around in her office with a fervor that would be sure to leave imprints in the floor. A knock resounded from the heavy wood door and, for a moment, the room was completely silent. “Come in,” she said at last. 

The door opened with a creak and closed with a groan. McGonagall turned to face her former student, and current Head Auror, “Harry Potter” she said, giving away no emotion. 

“I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances, professor.” Harry said as he walked up the stairs to McGonagall’s main desk. 

“Potter, you’re not my student anymore, there’s no need to address me as ‘professor’,” McGonagall responded.

“Oh, pardon me, Headmistress,” Harry answered with a slight bow. 

McGonagall rolled her eyes at her former pupil. Even after all these years he still has, somehow, kept his cheekiness. A silence followed. “Do you have any suspicions about who Sybill’s attackers were?”

“Yes,” Harry answered dejectedly, “I believe an old foe has risen its ugly head once again”

“You really believe the Death Eaters have returned, then?” McGonagall ventured. 

“From what Trelawney said it’s likely. The skull masks and dark cloaks match the Death Eaters quite well, though she was so out of it it was hard to get anything out of her. She’ll have to stay at St. Mungo’s for quite a while just for her psychological care.” 

“Go on.” McGonagall urged. 

“On top of that, Death Eaters have been known to use knives in the past, Bellatrix Lestrange was one of Voldemort’s more unhinged members. Maybe this could be a rebirth in her image.” Harry explained further.

“Strange,” McGonagall pondered, “So the Death Eaters have come back for revenge?” 

“I’m afraid so,” Harry admitted in defeat. 

McGonagall sighed. Yet another thing to worry about. She thought the problem of random attacks and possible widespread murder was one of the past. But when one group of evildoers dissipates another rises out of their ashes. She looked back to Harry, also looking worse for wear after the news, and decided to bring up a much happier subject. 

“So Harry, how are your children doing?” McGonagall asked tentatively.

Harry’s face lit up, “Oh, they’re doing just great! James is, well, James, as I’m sure you know,” McGonagall nodded solemnly at that statement, although what did she expect from a boy named ‘James Sirius Potter’, “Lily has more energy than I think any child should at her age, it’s wearing me down honestly,” Harry chuckled, “Albus is going to start his first year at Hogwarts this September.” 

“I’m sure you couldn’t be more proud,” McGonagall said.

“I’m actually a bit worried, to be honest,” Harry sighed, “He never seems to get along with any of his cousins, or siblings, for that matter. I’m worried he might not make any friends while he’s there.”

“Oh, Harry, he’ll be fine,” McGonagall reassured, “Who knows? He may be your double soon enough.”

“I just hope he’s not more trouble than James,” Harry said as he began walking out of McGonagall’s office. 

“Oh please, I doubt anyone could be as much trouble as that boy.” McGonagall scoffed. 

Harry laughed at her comment, “Until we meet again, Headmistress.” He said politely as he exited.

“Until we meet again, Potter,” McGonagall said as the door closed with a groan. 


	2. Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new students receive their wands and start their journey to their education at Hogwarts. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Albus registered the faint ringing of a bell as he followed the rest of his family inside Ollivanders for the final item on his school supply list- a wand. Albus himself was glad that his school shopping was almost done, he didn’t know how much longer he could stand strangers in the street squealing at his family and asking his father for an autograph. 

The shop was dusty and filled with the smell similar to a very old library, and aside from the shuffling made by his family members inside the shop, was completely silent. That silence was abruptly broken when Ollivander himself slid into view of the Potter family. 

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Ollivander said in a whispery voice. Albus looked the man up and down, he was old, skin wrinkled and cracked, hair a wispy white, and large eyes that were so pale it looked as though the man was blind.

Albus remained silent. His mother nudged him not-so-gently, and he introduced himself in a brief, “Hello.”

Ollivander chuckled and surveyed Albus head to toe, “So interesting, I sense a tricky customer,” he took a measuring tape from around his neck and flung it at Albus, who flinched, but relaxed as the tape spun around him, and the wandmaker turned to speak with his father. 

“Why it seemed only yesterday you were here buying your wand, Mr. Potter, my, may I have a look at it? Holly and phoenix feather, eleven-inches, yes?” Ollivander’s eyes widened as the wizard took his wand out of his back pocket and handed it to the elder man to inspect. 

“It hasn’t failed me once,” Harry said with muted pride.

Ollivander hummed, “Could use a cleanup, but otherwise in nice shape.” He commented, and Harry made an embarrassed face and looked to the side and chuckled.

“And you young James!” Albus noted that the measuring tape must have done its job, as, after a good few minutes of pushing and prodding around his body to take measurements, it flopped onto the floor, but Ollivander paid no attention to the tape measure or the boy, focusing on his older brother instead, “I remember your wand well, it’s wand is spruce, ten and three-quarter inches, correct?” 

James smiled and happily presented his own wand to Ollivander, “Been working fantastic!” 

“That’s good to hear,” Ollivander said with mild relief and turned back to Albus, who felt rather foolish standing in the middle of the wand shop with a measuring tape crumpled around his feet. 

Ollivander’s eyes widened and he nearly flinched as he rushed to collect his tool from the ground, “ My, my! How could I get so distracted!” He finally addressed Albus in full, “Alright, may you please hold out your wand arm?” Albus held out his arm, and Ollivander commented, “Left-handed? Very interesting…” 

The wandmaker was then gone as suddenly as he appeared, his scuffling heard from deep inside the shop’s maze of wands. He eventually returned, carrying but a single wand, and handed it to Albus, “Let’s start with this one. Holly and phoenix feather. Try it out.” and Albus took the wand. 

“You’ll really be like Dad then!” Lily finally spoke up. He didn’t enjoy the thought of people comparing him to his father even more, but he pushed the feeling aside. 

But he barely lifted the wand up into the air before Ollivander snatched it out of his hand. “Or maybe not.” The wandmaker whispered, seemingly to himself, before he disappeared back into the swaths of wands of his shop. He wasn’t done for long and soon came back with more wands to try.

Albus took the next wand. “Blackthorn and unicorn hair, twelve inches. Give it a go.” Ollivander said, and that he did. But nothing happened. He waved the wand around and around and nothing happened. Ollivander quickly grabbed that wand too and replaced it with another one. “Aspen and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Give it a wave.” He did wave the wand, and it burst out of his hands when he did. Ollivander caught it mid-air and gave him another wand. 

This continued until there was a substantial pile of wands lay on the floor of the shop. Albus felt frustration creep into his mind. He looked to his family, who all wore smiles, except for James, who began to look quite bored. Ollivander appeared over the moon as the pile kept growing. He went back to collect more wands for Albus to try, while he tried not to appear too annoyed at the lump of wood before him. 

“Now then, here’s a wand that might work - yes, why not?” Ollivander whispered to himself before presenting the wand to Albus. “Cherry wood and phoenix feather, eleven-and-a-half inches, give it a whirl.” 

Albus took the wand and immediately felt a raw burning strength seep into his bones. He waved the wand in a motion like swinging a sword, and a burning flame erupted from his wand, first green, then magenta, then bright blue, and finally a glowing hot orange. The fire vanished as quickly as it came but left its audience in stunned silence, broken by a “Wow” from Lily. 

Harry clapped, “My my, that was impressive.” Albus flushed at his father’s praise before James interjected, “Impressive? He nearly singed my eyebrows off!” 

“Really James, I would think that with a face like yours, singed eyebrows would be an improvement” Albus retorted. 

After Ginny intervened her sons’ impending brawl, the Potters paid the nine Galleons for the item, and Albus left happy with his new wand, and for once, felt happy about the upcoming school year. 

***

The Potters and the Granger-Weasleys met each other outside of Ollivanders Wand Shop. Rose’s stomach flipped at the thought of getting her very first wand. She barely heard what the adults were talking about, but caught something about meeting up at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes afterward. 

Rose said goodbye to her relatives, and she ran up to the door of the shop. She opened the door with fervor and strolled into the storefront, her family not far behind her, and the bell of the shop rang about with the opening of the door. Mr. Ollivander had just put his own wand back into his pocket, with other wands flying about the shop and back into their respective boxes. 

“Oh my, another customer already,” Ollivander said cheerfully. He smiled warmly at Rose, who looked at him with wide eyes. She was already left in wonder of the wand shop, silently pondering which one would choose her as its partner. She finally spoke to the shop owner. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ollivander.” Rose said politely, before she introduced herself, “I’m Rose.”

“Well, the pleasure is certainly all mine, little miss.” Said Ollivander, pleasantly surprised at her manners. “This is certainly a shift from my last customer, I believe the boy was your nephew?”

“Yes, he was.” Her mother responded.

“He has quite a sharp tongue doesn’t he?” Ollivander asked innocently.

“Really? I hope he wasn’t rude,” Her mother questioned with concern. Rose knew that Albus had a habit of making scathing comments, which often landed him in trouble. She only hoped her cousin didn't put himself into too much of a predicament this time. 

“Oh, no, not at all. He was a fine child.” Ollivander concluded. He changed the subject back to one of wands.

His face became cheerful as he turned to Hermione, “My, I still remember the day you walked into my shop. Your wand flew straight out of its box with such force it nearly knocked over my desk! I assume it’s working dandily for you as well.”

Hermione nodded, and Ollivander turned back over to Rose. “Now the only issue is finding the perfect match for you.” He said as his measuring tape flew all around her body, taking different measurements. “May you hold out your wand arm?”Rose held out her right arm, palm faced upward, as the sentient tape took its last needed measurements before crumpling onto the wood floor. Ollivander’s eyes completely lit up before he dashed back into his maze of wands, and emerged almost as hurriedly. He opened the box he had clutched within his arm and presented a darkly colored, straight, and smooth wand to Rose. 

“This wand is elmwood and unicorn hair core, nine inches, go ahead and try it out,” Ollivander said with great joy. 

Rose grasped the wand tightly in her hand and promptly felt her mind become clearer, sharper. With a wave of her hand, a marvelous spark of light and a burst of glowing gold dust scattered about the room. Rose then heard clapping from the others in the shop and very enthusiastic whooping from her father. She filled with pride and smiled to the point where she thought that her face would stay that way. 

“Oh, that was simply marvelous!” Ollivander exclaimed. “And quite fitting as well.” Rose tilted her head slightly in confusion as to what the wandmaker meant. He seemed to sense her perplexment and explained. “There are many magic users out there, those wishing to prove their own blood credentials, who claim that only a pure-blood can produce magic from an elm wand. I find it only fitting that the daughter of one of the greatest Muggle-born witches of our time be matched with an elm wand.”

Rose was over the moon when Ollivander was finished. She took this as one of the highest honors by the wandmaker, and her family nearly had to drag her out of the store, she was in such a trance. And as the Granger-Weasleys made their way over to the joke shop, Rose made a promise to herself to make her family, and her mother, proud of her. 

*** 

Polly followed her mother around all day. Her feet ached with how much they were walking, but she didn’t care. Her excitement fueled her through every shop and store, exploring the wondrous street that was Diagonal Alley. Her mother had even agreed to get Polly her very own owl, who she lovingly named Adora. 

Said owl screeched, snapping Polly out of her daydreams to look at the owl closer. Adora was a beautiful barn owl with a heart-shaped face and sleek tawny feathers and was always looking for attention from whoever she could get it from. Polly put out her fingers through the gaps in the cage, and the beautiful owl nuzzled against them. Polly smiled at the affection, but had to stop playing with her new friend when her mother gestured for her full focus, “We’re here.”

Polly looked up to see the sign of the shop: Ollivanders - Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. She slipped inside as her mother pushed the door open, the sound of a bell faint in her ears, her excitement dulling in the silence. Mr. Ollivander popped out of nowhere to greet the two in the front area of the store, the only place in the building that wasn’t crammed with an endless maze of wand boxes, each with a magical piece of wood inside, a vital key to her schooling. 

“Hello my dears,” Ollivander said kindly, his voice was a soothing distraction from Polly’s snowballing nerves, “I assume this is another first year for Hogwarts.” the elderly man said to her mother. 

“Yes.” the older woman said with pride, pushing Polly forward. 

Polly then stiffened and the measuring tape around his neck sprung to life, and took some brief measurements before returning to its resting place around the wandmaker’s neck. “Wand arm?” He asked briefly, and Polly held out her right hand.

Ollivander then walked briskly down the many aisles of wands filling his shop. After a minute or two, he emerged with a very dusty box. He blew away some of the dust, brushed some more off with his hand, opened the box, and handed her a wand, “Walnut and unicorn hair, twelve inches, nice and sturdy.”

Polly took the wand to wave it and hope something would happen, but by the time she brought her hand down, the wand was gone. She looked back to Mr. Ollivander, who had already gone back into the depths of his shop, looking for another wand. Polly looked back to her mother, who gave her a soft smile. A shuffling along the floorboards brought her attention back to Mr. Ollivander, who had another wand out for her to try. “Chestnut, eleven and a half inches, give it a wave.” 

And she did. Polly waved the wand around, but no matter how hard she willed it, nothing happened. She huffed quietly, and wondered if it was standard to try out a number of wands before finding the right fit. Though Polly supposed she was being impatient, and it was only her own fault she got her hopes up, after all, not everyone could be like that girl she saw earlier, bragging to all her friends how she got her wand on her first try. 

Ollivander gently grabbed the wand from her hand, “Don’t you worry my dear, this is only the second wand. You’ll find your wand.” And with that he went back to find another wand, Polly feeling much more reassured. 

A few minutes passed before Ollivander came back, holding a black box. He removed the box’s lid and pulled out a wand much smaller than the other two she was given to try. “Hawthorn and dragon heartstring, eight inches. An interesting wand.” Ollivander almost muttered the last sentence to himself.

Polly grasped the wand in her hand. It _was_ a much smaller wand in comparison to the other two she tried, but it felt different somehow. She now felt a strange calm wash over her, and all of her lingering nerves and impatience vanished. She pointed the wand at the ground and a plant started rising from the floorboards. The plant rose about two feet high before sprouting a beautiful orchid flower. 

Polly marveled at the gorgeous blossom, and her mother clapped politely before paying the fee for her wand. Soon enough, the wand was put away with the rest of her school supplies and the two were on their way home. Polly‘s previous giddiness returned, leaving her unable to focus on the route home with her upcoming school year promising such adventure. 

***

Scorpius never left his mother’s side throughout the Malfoy’s entire shopping trip in Diagon Alley. He suffered through the whispers and rumors of the other shoppers, strangers on the street, and even the glares of the shop owners. But Scorpius wouldn’t let it get to him. Nothing was going to ruin this moment. The moment he got his very first wand. 

Scorpius walked in with his mother limping her way in with her crutch as his father opened the door for them. A faint ring of a bell sounded through the shop, and an old, wispy man Scorpius assumed to be Mr. Ollivander strode into the front of the store. 

“Ah, yes, the Malfoys. I was wondering when you would enter my shop again.” Ollivander said, but there was no distaste in his voice, said more as if he was remembering an event on his calendar. “Now,” turning to Scorpius with zeal, “time to find you a wand. So many customers today… ” the last was murmured to himself, presumably.

Ollivander circled the young boy, looking him up and down as he set his tape measure upon him, having the enchanted item push and drag his limbs as Ollivander took the measurements needed, before finally directing him, “May you please hold out your wand arm?’ And Scorpius held out his right hand. 

Ollivander then returned to the confines of his shop, with sliding and shuffling heard behind the walls of boxes that were stacked up all around the shop. Ollivander skipped his way back to his customers and quickly organized the small stash of wand boxes in his arms, opening the first and handing the wooden object inside to Scorpius. “Ebony and phoenix feather, ten and a half inches, very refined.” 

Scorpius whipped the wand around, but nothing happened. He wasn’t that surprised, as his mother told him that some of her siblings were tricky customers. He simply handed the wand back to Ollivander politely, and Ollivander was more than happy to snatch it back. He then handed out another wand for Scorpius to try, “Hazel and unicorn hair, maybe this might warrant a more vibrant response.” And it did. The response was so vibrant that the wand bounced around the room with enough force to crash through a lamp bulb. 

“Aha… Maybe not.” Scorpius’ embarrassment soon faded as he tried more wands. However, it seemed that he was an unsuitable match for every wand Mr. Ollivander presented to him. No matter the size, wood, or core, they would either fly out his hands or not produce magic at all. And each new wand was piled onto a heap of wands that would be perfect for anyone else, but not Scorpius. 

“Pear and dragon heartstring,” Ollivander said as he presented yet another wand to Scorpius. The boy waved this one, too, and nothing happened. In addition, the wand itself became heavy like a weight, dragging his hand down towards the floorboards. In the end, Scorpius tentatively handed the wand back to Ollivander, who gave him a grin and dove back for more wands, no doubt to be added to the already gargantuan pile of wands in the front of the shop. 

But as afternoon turned to evening and the sun began to set, Ollivander’s excitement turned to concern, as the pile of unsuitable wands had all but buried half the shop. Scorpius’ mood plummeted with each new, unusable wand, and a horrid thought struck him, _What if no wand here ‘picks’ me? What id I’m not ‘magic’ enough to go to school?_. Scorpius knew from stories his mother told him that he was never really causing havoc with accidental magic as a child, but to think that he could be a squib? 

Scorpius could feel tears prick at his eyes. 

And at that point, Draco Malfoy, who, between the nearly three hours spent at the shop, his wife’s exhaustion, and his son’s growing frustration at the insanity of wands, had had enough. He approached Ollivander and said in a hushed whisper, “I’m very sorry Mr. Ollivander, but I have been patient. Either get a wand that will work or we will take our business somewhere else. I just can’t watch this anymore…” 

“Yes, I very much understand, this is quite unusual. But-” 

“But?” 

“But I have one more wand in mind…” 

Malfoy pinched his nose, “One more wand, then we leave.” He sounded like he was dealing with a small child and not the owner of the shop he was in. 

Ollivander then nodded nervously, solemnly, before he went back to grab a final wand, all hopes lowered to the ground. He emerged with a single box under his arm and presented the wand inside to Scorpius. 

“It’s silver lime and unicorn hair, nine inches. Quite a high-end wand,” Ollivander said cautiously. 

Scorpius held the wand gently, and all of his previous anxiety melted away, replaced with a warm sense of belonging in his chest. He took a few steps back and waved the wand. A white swirl erupted from his wand, and a chill fell over the room as snowflakes drifted downwards from the ceiling. 

Scorpius’ mother clapped, and chuckled softly, “Incredible,” she said as she gazed upon the gentle snowflakes dancing around the shop. 

Meanwhile, Scorpius was simply relieved he found a wand that could perform magic for him at all. 

Mr. Malfoy, relieved to be done with this, simply handed Ollivander a large handful of galleons and said “Keep the change,” before urging his family out of the shop and back home, eager for his wife to rest. 

Ollivander pocketed the coins, and sighed, as he realized how much time and work putting away all these wands would take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Finally got this one done!! Hope it didn't get too repetitive... I have somewhat of a headcanon that the 'feel' of your wand when you first hold it is different and unique to each individual, so I hope that came through! Please leave comments and kudos, and I'll try to get the next chapter up as quickly as I can!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave Kudos and comments, they fuel me!! And if you would like, check out my other works if possible! Thanks again and hope you enjoyed!


End file.
